


Salmon? That's what did it?

by j_obsessed



Series: NSFW... approach with caution (or a lust for cricketers) [1]
Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Compliant, Confessions, Cuddles, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24040387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_obsessed/pseuds/j_obsessed
Summary: Someone asked for a follow-up, about the time Joe jumped Jos. Because of some salmon. Hope it meets your expectations ;)
Relationships: Jos Buttler/Joe Root
Series: NSFW... approach with caution (or a lust for cricketers) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887832
Comments: 20
Kudos: 15





	Salmon? That's what did it?

**Author's Note:**

> I promise, I'm working up to actual smut, it's taking a while. Should be here in a few fics time... Prompts are not difficult for this pair, since they're basically canon 😁 My first time writing something this explicit, so, I hope it's enjoyable 😳

You know that saying, the one that’s popped up on everyone’s twitter feed at least once, it reads something like ‘every time a man does something wholesome, or family-friendly, it makes me want him to slam me against every wall in my house?’

Yeah that one?

It’s like, 11am on a Sunday morning, a fine day in Leeds, and Joe feels like he’s been hit by a train, but with _that_ feeling.

Not just a train. No… Like. Like a _bullet_ train, going 430km/hr. 119.4m/second. That’s like, 11.438 times faster than Usain Bolt. That is fast.

To be slammed into, by that, at 11am, on a _Sunday_. That’s a pretty devastating hit.

He’d just woken up and stumbled out into the living room, only to be surrounded by a bunch of people with cameras from Vitality UK. No lenses are pointed at him and he’s incredibly thankful for it, because his position as test captain would probably be seriously reconsidered regarding the state he’s currently in. He quickly slips back into the bedroom- to figure out why there’s a production crew in his damn apartment. He peeps out into the hallway, gaze focusing on the tall broad blonde man being filmed.

Oh. Oh wow. Joe feels _winded_. Like he’s been hit straight in the chest by a bouncer from Jofrah.

(He remembers when that actually happened. Jos had almost thrown a punch, and outright refused to leave his side at the hospital. He missed training for three days but Jos was adamant. He also banned Jofrah from bowling at Joe in the nets without him present ever again. You’d think Jos was team captain the way he was ordering everyone around. Joe wasn’t really conscious for any of this; he just remembers what Jason had told him. He does, however, remember the look in Jos’ glazed eyes when he first awoke after being unconscious for a few hours, and remembers the soft kiss Jos placed on his forehead in utterly overwhelmed relief. That was almost six months ago. Before the whole Jos and Craig thing happened.)

He does honestly feel like he’s had the goddamn air taken away from him though, and now he’s struggling to even breathe right. He actually has to brace himself on the door frame, count to ten, slowly, and then back to zero. It’s horrible really, because the sight should be endearing and adorable and fill him with _friendly appreciation_ rather than decidedly _nasty thoughts._

He can’t say that he’s _never_ thought about the man slamming him into a wall before, because, well, if he did say that, he’d be lying straight through his teeth. But then again, who _hasn’t_ thought about Jos Buttler with _some_ degree of filth. Anyone who says they’ve managed that feat- are bloody liars, Joe calls it. (So does the author…)

The older boy, really is the bane of his existence sometimes, because he’s so undeniably adorable, but at the same time, so fucking _hot._ And it’s like he doesn’t even _know._ It’s really not fair at all. Joe can barely handle Jos on a daily basis. And the _current_ sight of him is doing some very dangerous things to the younger blonde.

He genuinely doesn’t understand, because he can’t think of a single time where he’s felt this… _attracted,_ to anyone, ever before. Not his ex-girlfriend who tried to impress him with revealing outfits and nice heels, not his ex-boyfriend who he dated for _a whole year_ who was actually decently good in bed _._ Nope. Not a single person, no matter what they’ve done for him, compares to this sight in front of his eyes right now. It frightens Joe a little bit, because in theory, this should not be so sin-inducing. It really shouldn’t.

And it’s stressing him out.

He’s blinking owlishly, brain buffering harder than an hour-long YouTube video on an Optus wi-fi connection. He’s thinking about too many things, and if he’s sticking with a computer analogy, Joe’s brain has about fourteen tabs open, and the browser is overloading.

Every single tab is some other decadently nasty thought. Whether it be Jos fucking him into the floor with a hand around his neck, or them making out on the kitchen counter with caramel syrup on their tongues, or Jos fucking him open on his fingers on the couch, or pushing him up against the window, or Joe going down on Jos while he’s-

Yeah. There’s a _lot_ going on.

Joe.exe is broken. (Not yet, because there’s a production crew here- and Joe really does like his position as test captain. So not just yet. But it’ll happen, he’ll be _broken_. He’ll make sure of it.)

You’re probably wondering what Jos is doing that has Joe so unbelievably worked up. Well, you see.

He’s cooking.

Yep.

That’s it.

_Cooking._

Joe completely forgot that they were supposed to do a press video for Vitality UK today. They. As in Joe and Jos. Together. Thank fucking god they’re not doing it together, because Joe would absolutely have pushed the wicketkeeper to the floor and fucked himself on his-

Anyway. They were supposed to be doing this together. However, Jos clearly allowed him to stay asleep in their bed, and that’s another wholesome thing that Joe wants to jump him for. Jos hasn’t seen him yet, probably can’t from the angle he’s standing at. Which is a good thing, because if Jos even glances at the younger boy’s face right now, he’s going to know exactly what Joe is thinking.

Then Jos turns to talk at another camera and Joe can see his face and the breath is knocked out of him for the second time in only five minutes. Jos looks breathtaking. As usual, but more so. Messy and scruffy and with a little bit of tiredness still in his eyes. _Beautiful_ , really. His hair hasn’t been brushed or styled- and it hasn’t been cut in ages, so it looks gorgeously fluffy and Joe just wants to tug at it while the older boy shoves his tongue down his throat. His blue eyes are bright and sparkling, regardless of the tinge of sleepiness that Joe knows is there. There’s a soft line of stubble across the keeper’s jaw and chin, and it just makes him look hotter, but somehow _softer_ at the same time. He’s talking gently to the camera, voice soothing and calm and deep and Joe wants, _needs_ to hear him speak filth in his ear like that.

Reminder- all Jos is doing, is fucking _cooking_.

He’s wearing a dark, almost midnight blue sports shirt, long sleeved, and it’s clinging to his arms so stunningly, adhering to every gorgeous line of muscle and flesh. Joe wants those arms around him _now._ Wants to watch them tense and flex while Jos holds him up against the wall and- Joe visibly _shudders_.

When Jos turns around to open the oven, Joe has to catch himself on the door frame, _yet again._ Because now he can see just how well the shirt clings to the muscles of the wicketkeeper’s back. He watches as Jos’ shoulder blades shift gracefully, outlines of the sharp bones jutting through the thin fabric of the shirt, and Joe has the urgent need to sink his nails into the keeper’s back. And just when Joe thought he was maybe finally going to be able to breathe without assistance, Jos leans down to actually put the tray in the oven.

He almost lets out a choked cry, as he feels his throat constrict (around _nothing_ \- how very disappointing, he’s going fix that the second the production crew gets the fuck out of his apartment) because Jos’ shirt rides up and he can see a trim expanse of skin on his hip.

Joe wants to _bite it. All of it._ Leave beautiful red bruises over his sculpted collarbones and shoulders. Jesus _Christ_.

And he wants Jos to bite all of him too, actually.

_Joseph Edward Root. Please. For the love of God. Find some semblance of self-control._

While he’s cooking the rest of the components, Jos keeps talking about the nutritional benefits of salmon and how cooking at home is a great way to have fun and keep busy indoors, all in that smooth, borderline sexy tone, and Joe can’t help but feel like salmon is going to solve every single one of the world’s problems.

All because Jos is talking about the damn fish.

The man just has no idea of the goddamn trouble he’s causing honestly. Joe just watches, completely mesmerised, as Jos plates up 2 dishes, perfectly, even going so far as to using a dish cloth to clean the edges of the plates. He lets out a soft, fond laugh, and Jos manages to catch it, breaking his stare at the camera to beam at the younger. He mouths ‘one second’ before finishing up his plating and calling cut. He asks the production crew to wait, and quickly runs over, squishing him into a hug.

They’re really close, these two. Always have been, always will be. Live together, work together, go out together. Ever since that incident with Jofrah, they’ve been attached at the hip. Not long after that happened, Jos ‘broke up’ with his long-term boyfriend (who was a fucking dick, according to one Joe Root…).

It was a few months ago, and Joe was there with pasta and comfort and _‘friendly’_ emotional support… _Friendly, he swears. Friendly_ cuddles _, and friendly_ kisses. He couldn’t bear to leave Jos alone, and he had held the blonde keeper right against his chest while trying to repair his golden heart.

He’d called Jimmy that night, almost asked him to bash the guys skull in- because who the fuck cheats on Jos Buttler?! Thank god Ali was there, because from how broken Joe’s voice sounded on the phone, and from the rundown of the events that had led to the breakup, Jimmy would not have hesitated to run the asshole over with a car. (Don’t tell anyone, but Jimmy and Jos are very very close, and the former would do anything for the young keeper.)

They’ve been living together since that night, when Jos showed up at his door. And honestly, it’s a wonder they haven’t managed to jump each other yet. They’ve gotten _extremely_ close, a few times. Team nights at the club, instances where one has walked out of the shower in just a towel, training sessions where Jos has been shirtless… Okay so, maybe more than a few times. Lord knows they’re both unquestionably close.

Joe may be a _tiny_ bit closer at this current moment though…

Jos shoves him into the bedroom (unfortunately, does not follow) and tells him to put on something presentable with a tiny kiss to his forehead. Joe does as he asks, never questions it really, smiling softly to himself as he closes the door. Jos is always so unabashedly affectionate with him, tiny pecks and kisses to his cheeks and forehead and temple and nose, embraces for no specific reason, always around him, never more than a few metres away if he thinks about it. The other boys, _namely Mark_ , get mildly jealous because apparently Jos only ever gives them a hug if they’ve managed a wicket or a half-century. They’re exaggerating, Jos is lovely with everyone, he’s just, that _extra_ bit lovely with Joe. It’s been a problem in the past- especially for _some_ of Jos’ exes (see: breakup mentioned above). Jos hasn’t really done anything about it.

The keeper is talking to the camera again by the time he comes out of the room, wearing one of Jos’ tight fitted sport shirts, that’s just slightly looser on his smaller frame, over some dark tracks. Jos smiles endearingly, and Joe’s urge to tackle the boy to the floor dissipates. Only very slightly. Don’t be mistaken, it’s still very much _there_. Joe really should not be thinking about how he wants Jos to absolutely rail him into the mattress, but he is.

Jos, bless his heart, is completely oblivious to all of this, just beckons him over to stand next to him behind the counter, film crew already recording. “Hey sleepyhead,” he greets, grinning brightly.

Joe just rolls his eyes, smiling back, playfully inspecting the plate and squinting like a critic on My Kitchen Rules. “Hey chef. Seems like you managed just fine without me?”

Jos is laughing and it really is the most precious thing Joe’s ever heard. He looks up at the camera, closing up the video, “And that is how to make my impress-your-date baked salmon recipe!”

Joe’s eyes widen. His _what_ recipe. Excuse me??????

“Now if you’ll excuse us, I need to know if my date is impressed…”

Jos smiles, just a tinge of nervousness visible, and hands Joe a fork. The younger masks his utter ~~desire~~ shock well enough, and bites into the perfectly cooked fish, groans appreciatively at the taste. He puts a thumb up. “Impressed indeed. 11/10 would date after that.” What Joe really wants to groan into, is Jos’ mouth, or the base of his di- _shut the fuck up Joseph._

The responding expression on Jos’ face is glowing, as he turns back to the lens. “Post your photos and videos on Instagram, and tag us to be featured! Stay home and stay safe everyone!” They wave at the camera, and the crew congratulates Jos, before promptly leaving.

They sit together on the kitchen counter for a few minutes, chatting and eating, Joe profusely apologising for not waking up early enough, offering to do the dishes in return, to which Jos just replies “you looked too peaceful and pretty to wake up, I couldn’t bring myself to disturb you.”

And, well, that bullet train force feeling is right back. And it’s intense. Because Jos- today _alone_ , has let him sleep in, made him lunch, hugged him, kissed his forehead, called him his date, and all of this pure wholesome shit, and Joe is _actually dying_ _with the need to have Jos’ tongue down his throat._

Jos is looking at him so admiringly, so fondly, that it makes Joe squirm. The younger curses himself, when it becomes apparent that Jos has noticed his distress.

“Am I making you uncomfortable? I’m so sorry, if it’s because I called you my date-” The slightly dejected tone is not missed in the taller blonde’s sentence, and Joe can almost feel his heart break at the soft voice. Before he can think better of it, he leans over and interrupts the older boy, presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Jos’ mouth. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he pulls away.

“No, god no you’re not. I just. I’ve wanted to do that all day.” Joe can feel his expression giving him away. Yes, he is absolutely okay with that.

“Just… that?” There’s a teasing sparkle in the older boy’s eyes, like he’s putting pieces together, like he’s slowly getting the idea _. Jos always has been a smart one._

“Ok- so, maybe a lot more than that. You look hot in the kitchen.” He murmurs quietly, stroking the stubble on Jos’ cheek.

Jos chokes out a laugh in disbelief. “I’m- I’m sorry I what?”

Joe’s embarrassed smile makes a showing on his face. “Uh, it’s like, a thing. When you do really cute wholesome stuff, you just, I don’t know it’s hot okay, stop questioning me godammnit!” He drops his head onto the counter while Jos tries (and fails miserably) to contain his chuckles.

“So you’ve basically been hot under the collar since… we met?” Jos tries cheekily.

Joe’s really too embarrassed to deny anything, not that he’s in a position to, because Jos has completely nailed it. Can he nail _him_ now? Please?

“God shut up, yes, _yes I have been_ but then today was just too much because I woke up and then I realised you’d left me to sleep and then you made us lunch and then you hugged me and then you kissed my forehead and then you called me your date and it was like- uGH.” His explanation is muffled into his arms, and the kitchen counter. Jos picks him up and places him on the counter gently. Jesus, Jos needs to stop doing this cute shit because Joe is literally so turned on, he might pass out.

And then Joe feels himself being kissed. Properly. Like, Jos’ hand is cupping his cheek and his head is tilted up and their lips are touching and the older boy’s tongue flicks across his lip. Joe opens his mouth willingly as Jos’ tongue finds its way against his, and he’s so lightheaded he might fall off the marble counter-top, if not for Jos’ hand pressed tightly against his back.

Jos scoops him up into his arms effortlessly, and then pins him to the cupboard just beside where he was previously seated. Joe’s ankles cross just above the small of Jos’ back, and his arms link over the taller blonde’s shoulders. “You’re a dork. I can’t believe I’ve been going to training shirtless, and working out with you, grinding on you at team nights at the club, when all I had to do to get you to jump me, was _fucking_ _cook some fucking salmon. Fuck my entire life.”_

“HEY!” Jos chuckles at Joe’s petulant tone. “Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to jump you all those times too, but today I really just could not control myself. Please stay out of the kitchen, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“You know, you seem to be displaying an awful lot of control right now, I’ve got you pushed up against a cupboard door _and_ a hard place. And what are you doing? You’re talking.” Jos deadpans, playfully rolling his eyes in complaint. He leans closer to flick his tongue against the younger boy’s lip, and then moves to bite softly at his earlobe. “You know, I rather like when you supposedly ‘lose control’.”

Joe raises his eyebrows, challenging. “And when, _when_ could you have possibly ever seen me _lose control?”_ Joe knows what he gets like when he loses his control, and he _swears_ he would remember if he’d managed that with Jos.

Jos smirks. Joe is mildly terrified. “Club night, against the back wall, we’d been dancing awfully dirtily to a particular Weeknd song… by the end of it you had dragged me into you and begged for my tongue in your mouth, but you were drunk. I didn’t let you do anything, just took you home and let you fall asleep in our bed. I, slept on the couch. Greatest test of my willpower _ever.”_

Joe lets his legs unwrap from Jos’ back, as much as it pains him to do so. “THAT’S WHY YOU WERE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH?! I THOUGHT YOU WERE MAD AT ME!” Jos looks at him sheepishly. Joe pushes Jos away slightly, and walks about four steps away, almost into the living room (it’s like two feet away). Joe is very very done with wholesome Jos. He is _over it_.

Jos looks at him guiltily. “Joey I’m so sorry, I just didn’t want you to do something that you might regret and I-” Before he can even finish the rest of his sentence, Joe has launched himself at him, and they crash into a wall. Jos groans at the impact, and the sound is muffled immediately by Joe’s mouth. “Stop being so fucking wholesome.”

Well. Okay then.

The taller blonde grips at the younger’s thighs, holding up his weight entirely with the strength of his biceps. Joe digs his nails into them and feels the muscle shift under his fingers. To say he moans into Jos’ mouth is an understatement. The sound he lets out is filthy, an A-grade pornstar moan. Jos fights all his instincts telling him to kiss _harder._ He _has_ to pull away, desperately wanting to hear what that sounds like when he hasn’t swallowed it down his throat.

“Fuck me I’ve wanted to do that since this morning thank god, _finally,_ oh my-” is all that coherently leaves Joe’s throat, as Jos’ teeth graze bitingly over his collarbone up from the base of his neck and then _sink into his neck_. He grips at the older boy’s biceps again, earning a warning hiss into the column of his throat, before the flesh is sucked at harshly and “fuck fuck fuck _fuck_ take me to bed please for the love of everything good in this world-”

Jos just hums against his neck, “you sound so _pretty-_ ” he’s interrupted by a shuddering moan from the younger as he’s jostled against the wicketkeeper’s body, hips making precise, practiced, _purposeful_ contact. Joe’s nails have found their home in Jos’ back with a vice like grip. “Tell me what you were thinking about today. I want to hear you say it, want to know how to give you what you want.” The persuasive coax works, helped along by a few filthy kisses as Jos walks them into his bedroom, and then slams Joe against the door, eliciting a shattered moan. “Although, I think I might already have an idea.”

His desire wins over his dignity (a common thing that seems to occur when he’s around Jos, if the club story has anything to say about it), and he starts revealing everything he’s been fantasising about in the past three hours.

_‘Wanted you to fuck me into the floor with your hand around my neck’_

_‘Pour caramel syrup on my tongue and then taste it off me’_

_‘Fuck me open on your gorgeous fucking fingers on the couch’_

_‘Wanted to suck you off in the kitchen, have your hands tugging at my hair’_

_‘Hear you call me yours in that tone of your voice, sounds like liquid fucking ecstasy’_

_God, wanted you to bite me all over, wanna see the marks tomorrow, wanna see them next fucking week._

Every single thing he’s been thinking, falls out of Joe’s mouth in gasps and shudders, broken into fragments by Jos’ insistent hands tugging at his shirt, gripping at the soft lean lines of his muscle, teeth making indents into every inch of skin he can find, hips rutting against the younger’s mercilessly. It’s a wonder Joe managed a single comprehensible sentence amidst the absolute _onslaught._

Jos files every sliver of information away for later. He’ll be damned if he’ll forget any of this, _ever._ He won’t give in all that easily though, so he just leans up to suck a harsh bite into the upper left side of Joe’s neck. “Tell me you’re mine, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

The younger doesn’t even hesitate, manages a gasping “m’yours” before his breath is gone again, Jos’ slender fingers gripping softly around the base of his throat. Joe just sobs into the taller blonde’s mouth, breathing _hard._ When Jos pulls away, and makes to remove his hand, Joe wraps his own slim fingers around the boy’s wrist, and with a wrecked voice begs “ _harder._ ”

Jos’ pupils dilate until his eyes are almost black, usual shade of gorgeous blue disappearing beneath a midnight blanket of desire. He experimentally flexes his fingers, constricting the younger’s throat of almost all its air, until he feels a hitch against his palm. He loosens his grip momentarily, presses a sweet kiss to the smaller boy’s bottom lip, leaving him _chasing._ Almost as punishment, Jos clenches his hand again, and this time it’s _controlling._

Joe _whimpers._

_Desperately._

Jos groans at the sound, smugly taking in the younger’s absolutely _mauled_ throat, both from his teeth and his fingers as Joe’s hands fist his shirt. He takes that as a cue to strip them both, tearing off the fabric without a second glance, before pushing the younger into the mattress, hands finding purchase on his hips, grasping possessively. He bites his way down Joe’s body, switching between letting his teeth lightly scrape the younger’s skin, sinking his canines into the pale flesh, and breathing harshly over each bite in reminder. Jos is a fucking _tease._

Joe’s hips have a mind of their own, rolling and fucking up into Jos’ grip mindlessly. It’s doing things to Jos, who’s having to work increasingly harder to keep his younger lover in place. He lays a light slap to Joe’s inner thigh, and is met with another intoxicated moan, as the younger’s fingers come to grip at his biceps.

“If- if you do that again I’m gonna-”

The rest of his sentence remains buried in his throat as Jos’ mouth closes around the flesh he just hit. Joe’s body _lurches._

Jos’ moans are muffled into Joe’s muscled thigh, as he lays bite after bite over the sensitive skin.

“What d’you want darling? Fingers? Mouth?” Each word is punctuated with a kiss, slowly trailing up to a chaste peck onto Joe’s lips. “Both?”

The younger just pulls Jos down onto him, as close as possible. He needs to ground himself, because if he doesn’t, he doesn’t know how he’s going to handle this. He’d ask for both, but he knows that will absolutely kill him, and he’d really like to be alive to remember this, so he just replies “whatever you want, just need you.”

One of Jos’ fingers enters him immediately. It’s not rough, but it’s far from gentle, and his mouth opens in a silent scream. Then Jos’ tongue flicks over the base of his own finger, and Joe actually does scream.

 _Loud._

The taller blonde pulls away immediately. “Make a sound, and I’ll stop, don’t worry, you can scream like you want to once you’ve come from my fingers.”

Then, two of Jos’ fingers are shoved back inside him, hard. But he doesn’t move.

Jos almost chokes on his laugh at Joe’s dumbfounded expression. His laugh is devilish… nowhere near pure or angelic.

It’s borderline _evil_.

 _Joe still_ _loves it._

Jos’ fingers feel like heaven. They do, and he’s convinced that he’s dead and this is what his personal heaven is. They’re long, slender, ridged perfectly, bones protruding in just the right places, and their owner knows exactly how to use them. Except, well, at the current moment, he’s not. Joe fucks himself back down against them senselessly, another shattered scream escaping his throat.

The shorter blonde’s hand flies up to his mouth, because how in god’s ever-living _fuck_ , is Joe supposed to _not_ moan like it’s the _best thing he’s ever had?_

That sets Jos off.

He thrusts his fingers into him again. Just once. But _harder,_ biting into the younger’s throat again, softly speaking into the flesh “scream then, but don’t think you’ll stop until you’ve exhausted your pretty voice.”

He curls his fingers up expertly, hitting something in Joe that even _he himself_ hasn’t managed before. And like for most things, Jos is right. Joe can’t help himself; he sobs out a demolished cry of Jos’ name, combined with pleas and curses. If Joe wasn’t completely drunk on the blonde boy, he’d wonder who taught him how to do _that._

He starts a slow rhythm, which already has Joe on the razor edge. Then he adds a third digit, at a harsher pace, while he slowly drags the fingers of his other hand up around the younger boy’s neck.

And _squeezes_.

The tension in Joe’s body hits a high, snapping like a thread pulled too tight. His body arching and shaking harshly as it hits him. He blacks out momentarily.

When he comes back, Jos is stroking his skin softly, bringing him back perfectly to rest, protected in his arms. He’s pulled the covers over them, and his chest is pressed to Joe’s back. He leans forward to press a feather soft kiss to the younger’s temple, whispering praise and apology.

“Don’t you ever apologise for that. That was fucking _incredible_. We’re doing that again. If you give me five minutes, I’ll find a way to repay you.”

Joe manages to fix the earlier problem of having his throat constrict around nothing.

***

Almost three hours later, he turns around in Jos’ arms, pulls him closer, kisses him properly, softly, full of admiration and relief and _love_. Jos holds him tightly to his chest, chuckling softly, peppering eskimo kisses all over his face.

“You’re so beautiful when you laugh.”

Jos blushes. At that. After everything they’ve just done. It’s so incredibly endearing and Joe just wants to kiss him.

But Jos beats him by half a second. “You’re beautiful all the time. I love having you in my arms. Don’t leave. Ever.”

“In all honesty. I actually don’t think I can even move after that. And. I don’t ever want to. You’re comfy.” Joe snuggles further into Jos’ chest.

Jos smiles proudly. “Lucky you have me to carry you everywhere then. And cuddle whenever you please.”

Joe looks up at him, eyes wide, like he’s just discovered the secret of life. “I really do love you.”

Jos doesn’t even flinch. “I love you more.” The return is easy and it feels so perfect that Jos almost doesn’t even realise he’s said it. He smiles, pecking Joe softly on the cheek. He grins cheekily, “So, should I make dinner then?”

Joe slaps his shoulder, and dives into his chest. “Jos Buttler you are going to be the death of me.”

The laugh he gets in response is the most beautiful one he’s heard all day.

God bless wholesome boys, kitchens, Vitality UK, and salmon.


End file.
